


A Staccato Beat

by panaceaa



Category: South Park
Genre: Elf King Kyle, F/M, M/M, Princess Kenny McCormick, Stick of Truth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaceaa/pseuds/panaceaa
Summary: From across a ballroom floor in the middle of a rival kingdom, a quick-witted princess finally meets her match.





	A Staccato Beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProdigyBlood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Prodigy! Thank you so much for all of your support, and for blessing my life with your existence :D

Despite her status as the fair princess of the one and only Kupa Keep, Kenny had been the subject of many a conversation for her promiscuous and somewhat _rebellious_ nature.

But really, it was only to be expected, she was a product of her environment after all. Sure she might have been lacking certain _parts_ , but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have _assets_ , and she knew how to work them to her advantage.

She could move almost anyone to her whims, a smile a wink and an accented flow to her hips could have a person sitting right in the palm of her hand. She was witty, with a refined eye for the details, and the ability to judge the tells of a person from half a room away.

 _People_ were predictable. _She_ was not.

Kenny had never come across anyone she couldn’t read. It was an art form, a skill crafted into a secret weapon that one day might either save her life or end it altogether. A coin toss, of sorts. A deadly game, depending on who she decided to coerce, and if someday she might decide to test her charms on that fat oaf of a Wizard King who was controlling _her_ kingdom.

But until that day it was in her best interest to hold her tongue. Wear a dress that flowed perfectly around her hips. Giggle and act unassuming. Wrap a scarf across her lips to mask the tone of her voice, and to hide the curve of a frown in case she forgets she should be smiling.

Let the people see what they want to. Hide all the rest.

It is a dance that she knows step by step. Even here now, in a kingdom she has never visited before. Deep green embroidery lining the hall, and rich undertones of the forest present in every extravagant structure. This is not her palace made of stone by any extent, but although it is not her land she does not let hesitation and unsurety guide her movements like the rest of her people have. Does not act like Butters’ before she’d ever so mercifully asked him to dance, if only to put a stop to the way the paladin had been glancing warily around the hall as if waiting for the moment their _gracious_ elven hosts would block the doors and rain down the arrows.

Although, had the situations been reversed, the elves would have acted much the same in the midst of her kingdom. And they _had_.

This wasn’t the first time their kingdoms had come together, after all. And if no one died on this night, then it wouldn’t be the last either.

With the Elven Kingdom and Kupa Keep constantly on the cusp of war with each other, the other kingdoms had mandated that, while being under the watch of their own leaders, Kupa Keep and the Elven Kingdom were to host a ball twice a year. Kupa Keep hosting the event in spring, and the elves hosting in the fall. It was a time for peace, where both kingdoms were to meet, mingle, and pretend that they didn’t all hate each other.

There had been one semi-successful ball before this. Semi in the way that tensions were raised as high as they could go, yet a war hadn’t broken out so she supposed they could call it a success. That one had been hosted at her kingdom, and was really only memorable for one reason.

That had been the night where she had first seen _him_.

The King of the Elves. The leader of their rival nation. Red hair as bright as flame and shoulders set in a permanently proud line. Regal. Beautiful, Every inch a king.

But it wasn’t his appearance that gave her pause. Wasn’t his looks that caused her steps to falter in her carefully practiced dance of life.

No, it was something else. Something she couldn’t quite explain, but probably had much to do with the way that he spoke.

He put fire in every syllable, words resonating in the hearts of all that heard them. It was a skill that could have only come from natural ability, fined tuned beyond any learned craft. To breathe power into every word. Structure sentences so that they are poignant, yet refined. Concise, yet eloquent.

The speech he had given while addressing the two kingdoms had resonated with something deep within her, had _ignited_ something. Intelligent eyes and a brilliant mind. And suddenly, with inexplicable certainty, she was positive that for the first time in her life, the quick-witted princess herself had met her match.

All throughout his speech her eyes had been glued to him, never missing a beat. Catching his eye only once, but in a moment that she hadn’t quite been able to get out of her head since. Yet, once the speeches and pomp and ceremony had concluded, he had promptly vanished from her vision, disappearing for the rest of the party. Abruptly and woefully gone from her life.

Until now.

She’s dancing with Butters when she feels eyes on her. Turning her head towards the source, she’s suddenly met with the most vivid shade of green from across the room. A striking and beautiful green, bright and intense enough to ignite a shiver. And at once she is overtaken by a tremulous feeling, almost like a storm in nature, but one that she wouldn’t mind getting swept up in.

Almost immediately a smirk pulls at her lips. She finally had his attention, the eyes of a king on her without even trying. Now, it was showtime.

Without breaking eye contact she swings her hips in a slow circle, slightly arching her back in an action that could only be taken as provocative. It’s an invitation, one meant to spur any ordinary man’s initiative to make his way across the dance floor and whisk her away into his own arms.

_May I cut in?_

But the King doesn’t move. There’s a slight arch of his brow, a silent question, but nothing like the reaction she had anticipated. And instead, it’s the man holding onto her waist who freezes up instead, steps coming to a sudden halt.

“Princess?” Butters asks, voice wavering a bit in surprise.

She turns back to glance at him, and seeing his face she can’t help but feel a little bad. Sure he was a bit naive, and a bit annoying with his constant do-gooding paired with a strict following of all rules, but he was friendly enough. A listening ear when she needed one on the occasion. She offers him a small apologetic smile.

“If you’d excuse me.”

But when she slips out of his hold and turns back towards the king, it’s only to notice him slipping away through the crowd.

Suddenly remembering last time and his vanishing act, without so much as another thought she quickly follows after him. Losing him again wasn’t an option, she wouldn’t _let_ it be an option. So help her, this proud and stubborn king wasn’t getting away this time.

Weaving through the crowd, she makes sure his form never leaves her line of sight. And although she gets a few odd looks, particularly from the people of her kingdom who recognize her, she ignores them in favor of her new top priority.

She ends up following him to a large set of wooden doors, shut tight and appearing to be enforced. He glosses his hand over a section of it, a slight glow appearing through the gaps of his fingers, and with a dull creak the door opens all on its own.

Her surprise is short lived however, as the doors begin to shut almost immediately after he steps through, and she quickly and soundlessly follows suit before they can shut altogether.

The door shuts with a heavy sound, successfully cutting off the sounds of the party and bathing everything in silence. It’s only then that Kenny considers that this might not have been the best of her ideas. Hell, she could even end up trapped here, if not imprisoned then at least unable to open the door as she had watched the king so casually do not a moment before.

But she’d deal with all that when she came to it.

For the time being she had more pressing issues, namely the king.

Without looking back, King Kyle marches on. There’s confidence to his movements. Purpose. Royal robes pouring down the proud slope of his shoulders and billowing around him. Every one of his steps echoing through the empty hall.

She watches in silent admiration until he suddenly turns and enters one of the doors down the hall, and she remembers herself.

 _Dammit_. She’d never been so scatterbrained before.

With renewed focus, Kenny makes her way through the grand hallway. Much like the ballroom, accents of the forest live in every structure, subtle and expertly weaved into the very foundation. It’s beautiful, warm, reminding her a lot more of the farmland from a lifetime ago than the stone walls she had since learned to call home.

Kenny follows the same path the king had taken, turning and cautiously entering through the smaller, yet still impressive, wooden door he had disappeared though.

The room opens into what appears to be a grand library, shelves upon shelves of books lining the walls. A most impressive collection. But it’s not the array of books that catches the majority of her interest, but instead her eyes are drawn to an old painting.

It sits on the wall directly in front of her, large in scale with a frame made of a mix of plated gold and spindly branches, details all highlighting its importance. It’s of a family, all pointy-eared and faintly familiar to her. A mother with hair as bright as flame and a father with a very familiar crown sitting atop his head. In front of them stand two boys, the younger with jet black hair and a bored expression, while the older…

Her steps come to a halt.

The older of the two looked no older than ten, yet there was nothing befitting a child in his expression, nor in the way he held himself. It was unmistakably _him_ , fiery and proud even in his young days as a prince. She can’t help but smile a bit at the sight, suddenly being reminded of a painting from her childhood, one a lot more personal.

It hadn’t been nearly as extravagant as this one, commissioned only once the rumors started to rise, and probably burned into a pile of ash by now. But there had been a blond boy, ratty and overworked, but with a very similar expression as the young king. Determined. Unyielding. Prepared to take back all that he and his family deserved, no matter the cost. A dress. A title. _Hold your tongue and be whatever they want you to be_. But Kenny had reason. What could King Kyle possibly-

“You were following me.”

She spins around at the sound of the voice, immediately coming to face the very man she’d been following. Intense green eyes and a questioning arch of his brow, much the same as he’d given her from across the dance floor. Still, despite his wording and the circumstance, he doesn’t seem offended or even wary, instead judging by the small quirk to his lips he seems _amused_.

Amusement. She could work with that. Now it was all about playing innocent. Cute. Unassuming.

Kenny only giggles in answer.

Kyle’s questioning look doesn’t fall. Looking her over. Inspecting. As if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

“Princess... _Kenny_ , is it?”

She nods and despite her scarf hiding it from view, she knows that the crinkle at the corners of her eyes will let him know she’s smiling.

And to her relief that seems to finally cause a real smile to pull at his own lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asks, tone a bit softer than normal. It only lasts a moment however before it’s gone, being replaced with a frustrated scoff and a cross of his arms. “Then again I probably wouldn’t either if I had a choice. That’s all they do, you know? Pick at your every word and search for something to ridicule. Something that they can use against you.” Then he pauses, arms dropping back to his side. “But I fear I run my mouth too much,” he tells her with a small apologetic smile. “My advisors have long warned me to hold my tongue.”

But no, that wouldn’t do. Such a brilliant mind should never be silenced, she could listen to him talk for days. Could probably find something worth listening to in the ancient treaties if he was the one who read them.

Without thinking, she takes a step forward.

“I like hearing you talk,” she says, speaking for the first time, her voice muffled by her scarf.

In the light of her sudden words he meets her eyes, inspecting as if searching for something. Then, a breath of quiet laughter breaks free from his lips. “So, you do speak,” he comments, clear amusement lacing his tone. He crosses his arms again, smooth and causal. “Say, you don’t happen to be a spy or an assassin do you? My guards say I shouldn’t associate with those.”

She takes another daring step forward.

“And do you always follow the rules?” She asks. A test of the waters. Somehow already knowing the answer but still curious of the response.

He notes her approach, eyes dropping to her feet before meeting her eyes again. Still, he doesn’t move away.

“Do _you_?” He retorts, clearly already knowing her answer just as she’d known his.

She flashes him a wicked look. A wink paired with a smirk that he wouldn’t be able to see. Yet, she watches as he gives a meaningful look at the material of her scarf, right where her lips remained hidden. Something flutters in her stomach.

He looks away. Finally turning away from her and taking a few steps forward until he reaches one of the large glass windows spaced evenly along the wall. Once there he places his hands on the windowsill, fingers digging into the wood. And seeing him framed against the window, shoulders slightly hunched and gaze focused on something indistinguishable in the far distance, Kenny gets the sudden feeling that the king stood like this a lot. The forest and densely laced trees of his kingdom lining all the viewable distance, high wooden pathways bridging the gaps between treetops, and lanterns filled with a strange blue fire flickering like fireflies through the late evening sky.

What a sight he made. Kenny gets the sudden itch to draw him, to paint all of his powerful and beautiful elegance in sharp reds, golds, and greens. To capture and immortalize his essence on canvas. The real face of the king. Bold colors, and the lonely almost forlorn longing with which he looked out that window.

Without conscious effort, she’s suddenly making her way across the room until she’s standing right beside him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge her. Then slowly, carefully, she finds herself reaching forward for his hand.

However, just as their fingers are about to connect they...don’t. Nothing but air greeting her hand where she should have felt warm skin, and with a startled gasp the king suddenly vanishes before her eyes. His form fading with a puff of leaves at her feet.

There’s the sound of quiet laughter behind her.

Immediately turning on her heel, she sees him leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed at his chest and a stupidly smug little smirk tugging at his lips.

“You can never be too careful,” he comments, pushing off the bookshelf and walking towards her.

She glances back down at the small dusting of leaves now sitting in a pile on the floor. Right in the spot where she’d sworn the real king had just been.

“...How?” She breathes, stunned, glancing up at him in question as he reaches her. To which he adds an arch of his brow to his already way too smug expression.

“You’re asking that in the middle of the elven kingdom, to the king of the elves himself. It’s magic,” he shrugs, casting his gaze out the window much in the same way his doppelganger had. Hell, if his magic could do _that_ , then what _else_ could it do? Her fingers twitch at the thought. “An allusion,” he continues. “Or maybe it would be more apt to call it a reflection of the past.” He turns his gaze back towards her, a knowing grin curving up the edges of his lips. “And now you’re thinking of what _other_ uses my magic might have.”

She blinks. Visions of glowing blue hands under the sheets and intense green eyes on both sides of her, all abruptly coming to an end in her sudden horror.

“You read minds too?” She huffs, suddenly feeling fidgety under his stare.

“No,” he says with amusement, very clearly trying not to laugh. _Damn him_ , stupid enticing king. “But your face is a very telling shade of red, and I take it you’re not one to blush from mere embarrassment.”

And, for perhaps the first time in her life, she’s completely speechless.

“You’re used to having the upper hand,” he comments with a small smile, turning back towards the window and freeing her from the weight of his stare. And his words catch her a little off guard, once again finding herself surprised by the way he could see right through her. “I was like you once,” he continues. “A prince who thought he had the world in the palm of his hand.” His tone is wistful in nature; yet, it also rings with the same symphonic power that all his speeches seemed to carry, determination with just a tinge of barely repressed frustration boiling under the surface.

A fire burning at a low simmer, just waiting to ignite.

“Or at least I would one day,” the king continues. “All I had to do was get the crown and I could _change_ things. Because I was _better_. _Smarter_. And knew everything I could ever need to know.” He shakes his head and a bitter laugh breaks through, startling real and captivating. “But you want to know what they don’t tell you? The crown, the power, it’s all one big damn lie. You’re a symbol, that’s all you are. _You can’t say that Kyle_ , and _you can’t do that, Kyle_. And yeah sure you could do it anyway, but you’re no longer representing yourself, you’re representing your _kingdom_. And that makes all the difference.”

“So you hold your tongue,” Kenny says quietly, without even really meaning to. But there’s something suddenly buzzing under the surface of her skin. A quiet _excitement_ for _finally_ finding someone who _understood_. “Be what they want you to be.”

His eyes find hers. A world of understanding passing through that once single gaze. Two people of royal blood who longed for a better world, and yet somehow were expected to be satisfied with what they had been given. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t _ever_ enough.

Kyle nods.

“All big ideas are met with one thing,” Kyle adds, and then gestures as if pulling back the string of a bow.

She glances back down at the small pile of leaves at her feet. “You can never be too careful?” Kenny reiterates, flicking her gaze back up to Kyle for confirmation, to which he responds with a small bitter smile.

“Precisely.”

And the next few beats fall into silence.

Never had her heart beat so fast. Like a shot of adrenaline straight to the chest due to the freedom of finally finding an equal. Someone she wanted to talk to for hours upon hours, to find out every brilliant thing hiding away in that mind of his and still never grow bored.

She’d never really believed in love at first sight. But this…

What other feeling could this possibly be?

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said all that,” Kyle says suddenly, looking a bit sheepish, probably due to Kenny’s sudden silence. “But you’re very easy to speak with,” he continues. “You’re different than the rest, I can see it in your eyes. We’re...a lot alike, you and I.”

And that, they were.

Overcome with a sudden onslaught of feeling, Kenny can only look at him in pure adoration

That is until another desire rises to the surface. Tonight _was_ supposed to be a party, after all. What a shame it would be for a princess and a king to spend it standing around in a library.

Besides, she might never get the chance again.

With that thought, she suddenly moves forward, grabbing his wrists and pulling him after her.

He shoots her a look, but offers no argument. Only allows himself to be led away from the window and a little further in, towards the middle of the room.

It’s there that Kenny places his hands on her hips and she wraps her arms around his waist, abruptly pulling him forward with a ferocity that knocks the breath from his lungs in a small _oof_. He gives her another questioning look, the two of them now pressed flush against one another, but she only shifts to wrap her arms around his neck and winks.

And slowly, they start to dance. Nothing complicated, but a simple yet graceful affair. One step. Then two. Then three. Kenny is the first to lead, setting the pace as a slow and steady rhythm. All to a soundless tune. This goes on until Kyle gets the gist of it and takes over.

One step.

Then two.

Then three.

Eventually, she settles her head against his chest. A textbook defenseless position, but if she were to die here then it would be a death well worth it. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat, wondering if its tempo may also resemble the staccato beat her own.

Of all the people to fall for it had to be with the damn king of a rival nation. It was just her luck really. To finally find love and have it be strictly forbidden. Not that she was a stickler for rules, quite the opposite in fact, but this wasn’t stealing from the kitchens or flirting with the advisors.

This was a whole lot worse.

Distantly she’s aware that her eyes are beginning to go glassy and tears would probably ruin her painstakingly applied makeup. But she can’t even bring herself to care. Instead, she just sniffles and holds her king a little tighter.

Leaning down he breathes, “You’re upset,” against the crest of her ear. To which she gives an indignant huff.

“Am not.”

Straightening again, he laughs and smooths down her hair in a repeated motion. A gesture meant for comfort. “You’ve lost your fire. Don’t give that up, not for a dumb king.”

With that, she lifts her head so that she can properly look him in the eyes. “You’re the opposite of dumb,” she responds adamantly.

He gives her a small smile, gentle and beautiful.

Then he slowly lifts a hand and places it against her jaw, gently tilting her chin up.

“And you’re _radiant_.”

Blinking away tears she can’t quite stop her lips from quirking into a playful grin. “Am I?”

He hums and runs a thumb over her lips, a mere curtain of scarf separating them from contact. Nerves alight at the feeling, the possibilities suddenly real with not a soul around to see. It’s _exhilarating_.

“I want to kiss you,” he admits, bold and without the smallest bit of hesitation.

Her breath catches. Heart skipping a beat as she manages to respond in only three breathy words. Every syllable said without thought, automatic due to the fact that they were completely and utterly true.

“I wouldn’t stop you if you did.”

And with that, she slowly reaches for her scarf. Kyle watching with intense interest as she carefully pulls down the material, just enough to allow him to lean in and finally-

“My king!”

Kyle abruptly pulls back, robbing her of what could have been and what she so desperately wanted in lieu of their sudden interruption. Indignantly she yanks her scarf back in place, and sends an annoyed look to the man now standing in the doorway.

Raven haired and unfamiliar, he only makes a gesture in the direction of the ballroom, and that alone seems to be enough of a message for Kyle.

He turns back towards her with an apologetic smile.

“Duty calls,” he tells her regretfully, before stepping away and allowing the cold to set back in where his heat had previously warmed her. “It was an honor, Princess Kenny.” He gives a bow, appearances once again up and chivalry back in place. Although, as he straightens he hesitates, as if there’s still something he wants to say. “And...thank you,” he finally settles on saying, a small smile returning that held all the previous warmth of the evening.

And then he’s turning away from her.

Something that might be blind panic strikes her, and without thinking she rushes forward and grabs his hand, successfully pulling him to a stop.

“The mid-spring ball will be hosted at my kingdom.” She says in a rush. No time for tact or any of her normal flirtatious bravado. “Come find me? There’s...something I’d like to show you.”

For a moment he only gazes at her. Surprise lining his features, before pure warmth and what might be _relief_ takes its place.

Raising the hand that she still clutched desperately, he places a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. Warm and lingering.

A squeeze of her fingers.

A promise.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I guess it was about time I tried my hand at a sot au, and I figured what better time to do it than for Prodigy's birthday! If you guys have never read her amazing fic, The Traitor of Zaron I *highly* recommend checking it out. I adore Prodigy's sassy princess Kenny, and Kenny and Kyle's dynamic is so unbelievably well written!
> 
> I don't think this can even really compare, but I only hope that I was able to do Princess Kenny and her fiery King justice<3


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